Caged
by Lady Sashi
Summary: What is the value of a minute? Warning character death. I own nothing.


Caged

Rogue looked up at the ceiling of her cell, remembering how she had come to be here.

She had been jogging at night, Logan had warned her not to, but she never listened. They'd come out of nowhere, and the next thing she remembered, she was here, with this chip in her arm used to control her mutation and keep her in line. She was forced to fight other mutants in the same situation in death cage matches.

Their powers were turned off when they weren't fighting, and if they disobeyed, or became unruly in any way, a shock of several volts was sent coursing through their entire system.

She had learned to obey quickly.

She turned over in an attempt to chase the demons from her mind, she had to be well rested for her match tomorrow.

Rogue, or as she was known here, Death Wish, rose up through the lower levels where the fighters were kept on the hydraulic lift that would bring her into the ring. Her mutation was based on flesh to flesh contact, so they delighted in dressing her in as little as possible.

The platform clicked into place, and the restraints holding her hands at her sides were released, as the chips were switched off.

She studied her opponent, her strategy was flawless, a guaranteed win, which was why she was a favourite, and champion of the cage.

He was young, not much older than her, they introduced him as Berserker, and she found out why, when he released a bolt of electrical energy from his hands.

Rogue banked and dodged.

They liked to pit her against mutants who had range to make it more of a challenge.

With every manoeuvre she used to dodge, it brought her closer. He was shirtless, and she had her opening.

She lunged, and wrapped her bare arms around his chest, letting him fall into her.

She took just enough, and made short work of him with his own power.

Leaving him to dangle on the edge, her ears caught frantic and frenzied cries of "kiss of death, kiss of death"!

Her trademark.

She bent her head and whispered two breathless words into his ear, before granting death in the most pleasurable of ways.

"Forgive me".

Talk had been circulating a new arrival.

Supposedly unstoppable, indestructible.

Her cell opened, a body was thrust heavily to the floor, still under heavy anaesthesia.

"New room mate".

Rogue groped in the darkness for the body, tracing it. Her sense of touch was highly developed and the mental picture formed in her mind.

The chiselled jaw riddled with stubble, the slight sideburns. Hard, weathered skin on a face that never smiled. Large hands with no calluses, and muscular arms that had held her many a time, clasped to that strong chest in an effort to chase away the demons.

She traced her fingers lightly along Logan's face, she had memorized him solely through touch.

He lay half naked and barefoot on the cold floor, with no blankets, no bed.

She pillowed him in her arms, using her body as a human blanket, she lay the length of her body over him.

Trying not to cry, she washed away the blood with tears, and kissed every hurt.

The bloody knuckles, scratched chest, bruised face.

Spilt lip.

With her body wrapped around him, she prayed for morning, and that his injuries would heal. While dreaming of those arms, and that chest, and those lips kissing her back.

Logan opened his eyes, his wounds had healed, and he felt like he'd been paralysed. Piecing the puzzle together he clutched the shivering girl to him in a silent prayer. Her warmth was gone, she'd given it all away. He wrapped himself around her, and turned so he was lying gently on top of her, giving her as much warmth as possible.

He trailed hot breath over her till she responded by opening her eyes.

"Hey kid", he shifted slightly to give her more space.

She filled him in on what was going on jut before he was readied for his first fight. "Logan, whatever you do, don't use you're claws". He nodded, realising the advantage of keeping them secret.

He climbed the ranks fast, and soon equalled only Rogue. It was only a matter of time before they were pitted against each other.

In the nights he held her. Comforted her after a fight, he was no stranger to the cage, he knew what it was like.

Touch was important to her, and here, by some twisted sense of fate, he could give it to her.

The touches and caresses were platonic, experimental.

She touched his face, marvelling at the difference. It wasn't smooth like hers, like she'd somehow thought it'd be. It was rough and hard and coarse.

When she was finished exploring him in her innocent way, he would trail his hands over her, mirroring her movements.

When she cried from joy, from saddens, he'd hold her.

He'd brush aside her tears, kiss them away, lick them clean.

One kiss became two and two became four. Innocent, meant to comfort.

He would keep them innocent, but he would give them now, freely, all she wanted.

And she wanted them all night.

They woke up, wrapped in each others arms, knowing the day had come. They would fight and one would die.

That's the way it had to be.

They counted down the time till the match, ten minutes, they had to be ready in five.

Five minutes.

One to let reality sink in.

Two to make a choice.

Three to follow through.

He looked at her, one look, that told her that she wasn't a kid.

She was a woman, and she deserved to feel it.

If only for three minutes.

This was anything but innocent.

This was raw emotion.

Not sexual, not forceful.

This was pure.

He needed her to feel, and he needed to be the one to show her.

Three minutes.

One of pleasure.

One of pain.

One of something without name.

Without end.

The chips were off, the bell sounded, they already knew they were going to give them a show. A hard, fast five minutes, before all hell broke loose.

Out came the claws, unleashed was all the power absorbed over the months.

The one man killing machine.

The one woman army.

They took out as many as they could, which was more than half the occupants, and rendered the compound useless, before the tables turned.

Logan's chip came on, and the blood began to flow, as the shock went though his body.

He looked up at her, barely there, but he knew it'd still be a long wait.

He reached for her, "Rogue"….

She shook her head, they'd left her mutation active just to watch the pain dance across her face.

To watch her soul die.

"P-Please…."

She sobbed as she fell to her knees.

One minute.

She press her lips to his, and for one minute gave him release, gave him her very soul.

Thirty seconds.

That's how long it took for her cut her throat with lifeless claws.

Two minutes.

Is how long she had to wait before she was free.

An eternity.

That's how long they had together.


End file.
